


Lube and Ice Cream

by RoxanneTucker



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bottom Dean, Brother Feels, Coda to Torn and Frayed, Episode: s08e10 Torn and Frayed, Fingering, Incest, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Top Sam, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:49:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27128806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoxanneTucker/pseuds/RoxanneTucker
Summary: Coda to Torn and Frayed. Dean's made a choice. So has Sam. Dean just can't believe the choice Sam has made.
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Comments: 10
Kudos: 92





	Lube and Ice Cream

It’s just a bowl of ice cream.

It’s not even good ice cream, just what they can get at the second closest convenience store to Rufus’s cabin. They don’t go to the closest store, not after getting the clerk nacho-cheese-dunked by a Leviathan. They had decent ice cream at the closest store.

But it’s sweet and cold and the bowl of it, a big helping, not the stingy spoonfuls Sam usually allows himself, is a surprise. Nearly as big of a surprise as Sammy coming back.

Dean doesn’t even realize the match is over until Sam grunts in disapproval at the judge’s decision.

“Mason got robbed,” he says.

“Yeah,” Dean replies. “Want another beer?”

Sam nods and Dean stacks his bowl into Sam’s, climbs over his brother’s gigantor legs, and carries them into the kitchen along with the empties, licking at the ice cream soup coating the back of his spoon until the metal warms. He puts everything in the sink, then grips the cold edge of the sink with both hands, bending his head.

He might have to sit. Stick his head between his knees. A year in purgatory — and their lives — and the shock of Sam choosing him is what makes him whoozy.

“Dean?”

He straightens. Slowly. Passing out would force him to hand in his awesome card. But he doesn’t let go of the sink. He keeps staring out the window into the deep, black night.

He can see his reflection in the glass. Sam could have made so many other, better choices.

His brother’s face appears next to his own. A big hand, warm even through his heavy denim shirt and black t-shirt, touches his waist.

“Dean,” Sam says again. This time it’s a soft and low statement of fact.

Dean raises his chin. Meets his brother’s fox-like gaze in the window. Lets Sammy see what he’s become.

Sam steps closer and Dean can feel the warm wall of him at his back as Sam’s hand smooths around his waist and toward the the top of his jeans.

“Be sure, man,” Dean says, forcing himself still, forcing himself not to run. “You still have choices. You can still walk away. You can —“

“No, I can’t,” Sam says into his ear before kissing that spot just beneath it as he undoes his jeans. “You’re back, Dean.” His other hand runs over Dean’s chest then tugs him back against him. “It’s all I ever wanted.”

Dean holds himself steady against all that heat and muscle. But when Sam trails the point of his nose down Dean’s neck, inhaling him, Dean tips his head to the side to give it up. If Sam changes his mind in the morning, it’ll kill him. But he’s known that for eight years.

Dean bucks involuntarily when Sam reaches into his tugged open jeans and boxer slit and pulls out his half-hard cock. “Fuck,” Sam says as Dean feels his dick grow in his hand, the delicate skin dragging across Sam’s calluses. “A whole year, Dean.”

It’s been more than a year. Before Benny, before purgatory. Before Cas went away for Sam. Before they realized Bobby was haunting them. It was…it was after Sam got Dean back from the 1920s. Sam had moved slow as molasses and Dean had bit his lip bloody because Jody was sleeping in the other room.

As Sam bites into the tendon through Dean’s shirts, Dean reaches back and threads his fingers into his silky hair to hold him there. He closes his eyes and his toes curl against the old boards as his brother starts to jack him. The hair in his hand is too long, the longest he’s ever seen it, and too full of sunlight, that red it used to get during the long days of summer growing up. Before Sam spent all of his time with Dean in the dark.

“Doesn’t feel like you’ve lost your touch, Sammy,” he says.

Sammy shakes off Dean’s hand and bites his earlobe. “And you? You learn any new tricks?” he growls.

Dean feels the flair and fury of that while Sam continues to send hot sparks up his cock. Sammy abandoned him, Benny stuck with him, Sam had been with her… Dean had been with Benny.

But now Dean has chosen. So has Sam. And he’s tired of fighting the one person he needs most. He can’t keep letting purgatory burn away the little bit of humanity he has left.

Still held in his brother’s strong embrace, he pulls Sam’s hand off his cock and raises it to his mouth. Presses a hard kiss into his knuckles. “I missed you, you asshole.”

Sam groans his name while he grapples a hold of Dean’s chin and twists it so he can kiss him. The kiss is messy, a slide they can’t figure out and want too much until Dean tilts his chin and…there. Sam’s tongue against his teeth and then sliding into his mouth. Sam tasting sweet and malty and Sammy. Sam holding his face so that his neck aches but he doesn’t care as Sam makes Dean remember why he loves making out with his brother.

Sam’s the only person who makes kissing as good as fucking.

Dean tries to turn around, wants to grind against warm, hard Sammy instead of 70s-era lumber, but Sam grips his chin tighter. “No, let… Just let me.”

He slides Dean’s over-shirt off his shoulders then pulls Dean’s t-shirt over his head. Dean shivers. This…. Being undressed by his brother.

“God, look at you,” Sam groans, one hand gripping Dean’s shoulder and pushing him slightly forward while the other huge paw slides down Dean’s spine. Dean can see his brother’s face in the reflection. If the tip of his cock wasn’t already drooling, the hunger on Sammy’s face as he looks at Dean’s body would do it. “No wonder the monsters kept chasing you.”

Dean scoffed. Yeah, the running-for-your-life fitness plan. Still, he’s been topside long enough without _runbeatkill_ deafening him to notice what the mirror shows. “They just wanted a taste of man meat,” he says.

“Yeah?” Sam rips open and out of his flannel and Dean’s glad to see that at least that girl kept him healthy. Then he pushes up against Dean - silk and muscle and hot demand at Dean’s back. “Me too.” 

Sammy gets to tasting: Reverent kisses across the freckles of Dean’s shoulders. Plush sucks on the wings of his shoulder blades. Sam sets his teeth to Dean’s sides without doing any damage, like he’s testing to see if Dean’s got any new spots. He doesn’t. All his spots belong to Sammy.

Sam pushes down Dean’s jeans as he sinks to his knees, then shoves his hand between Dean’s legs to get his dick pointing to the side. Sam edges around Dean’s hip and licks the dripping tip.

When Dean tries to turn around again, Sam slaps the meat of his ass hard and whipsharp, like he was planning on it, the asshole. “Stay there,” he murmurs against the sting before licking across it with a flat wet tongue.

Dean’s grunt is helpless, but he doesn’t give a fuck. It’s been so long. Sammy makes it so good.

Sam nibbles at his ass as he gets Dean’s jeans over his bare feet, raising goddamn goosebumps all over Dean’s skin. “Spread your ass for me,” he breathes against the skin once Dean is naked.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean moans. Then he does it, because he always does what Sam says when they’re like this. He takes a cheek in each hand and spreads them apart, bares himself, and maybe pops out his ass a bit to make it easier.

“Did I ever tell you you’ve got freckles here, too?” his brother sighs into the crevice of his body.

Dean feels Sam’s late night scruff and warm breath then soft, hot, wet tongue. He lets the cold edge of the sink dig into his stomach because his thighs are gonna give out if he doesn’t.

Sammy’s always been as good at making out with Dean’s downstairs as his upstairs. “Love you like this,” Sam sighs, and Dean’s never understood how he can be so gentle and adoring with something so filthy. When Dean tongue fucks Sam, it’s the start of a night that leaves bruises. But Sam kisses and sucks and sinks his tongue in, slow and thick, making Dean feel as wet and soft and fluttery as if he really had a cunt.

“Sammy, c’mon man,” he groans, his hands trembling on his ass at the wet, slick sounds Sam is making. “Let’s do this.” It’s too much. His dick is bopping against Rufus’ wood cabinet. But it’s his heart that’s the real problem. The fucking thing feels like it’s about to explode out of Dean’s chest. What he’s feeling for his brother right now. It’s too much.

With a last long suck, Sam stands, brushing aside Dean’s hand so he can squeeze that cheek. The hand that was once so tiny, that once used to wrap around Dean’s fingers and not let go, now slides over Dean’s skin, savoring, until it strokes a finger over Dean’s wet hole. Sam’s other hand engulfs Dean’s shoulder. Dean’s eyes startle open when he feels Sam’s broad forehead press into his neck.

“Missed you so much, Dean,” he whispers as his finger pushes inside.

Dean swallows his moan because he’s afraid it’s going to come out a sob. Sam. Missing him. Wanting him. Choosing him.

Sam was here, doing this to him, sliding another finger inside and crooking it to stroke — fuck, there. Making Dean buck with pleasure instead of being with that girl.

“Sam,” he barks. “Move it along.”

But Sam, the little shit, knows Dean too well. “Shhh,” he hushes, pumping his fingers inside while sliding his free hand over Dean’s chest, wrapping his arm around and nestling him back against heated chest and jeans-covered cock. “I got you, man. It’s okay. I’m here.”

Dean groans when Sam pulls out his fingers. But he hears a snick and then feels three fingers slippery with lube pushing back inside him.

“You carry lube in your jeans all the time now?” he snarks. That’d at least be one decent reason Sam stuck with the girl instead of looking for Dean.

“No, jerk,” Sam breathes against Dean’s temple, circling his fingers in a way that has Dean rotating his hips with the motion. He makes Dean into such a slut. “I got it out of the Impala before I came inside.”

Sam brought him ice cream. Sam retrieved lube. Sam came inside planning to stay. Sam came inside planning to make Dean his again.

Not that Dean has ever been anyone else’s.

Dean closes his eyes and turns his face against Sam’s jaw. “Please Sammy,” he whispers. “Please. Need you, little brother.”

“Dean,” Sam groans. It’s the best love word Dean has ever heard.

Sam lets go of Dean just long enough to get his dick out and slick it up then he’s bending Dean over and lining himself up and Dean’s planting his hands on both side of the faucet and going up on his toes and he’s begging _comeoncomeoncomeon_ and Sam is cursing and no one gets Dean like this but no one gets Sam like this either and then Sam’s thick, perfect cock is pushing wet at Dean’s hole and then with a pop and a slide Dean is sucking his brother inside.

They both yell. Sam tries to slow down Dean by grabbing his waist but Dean unrelentingly shoves his ass on his brother’s cock and loves the cut-glass side.

He’s panting into the sink as his brother slowly bends over to cover him. To protect and to hold him. His huge hands slide down Dean’s arms until he meshes their fingers together. Then he pulls Dean up, enfolding their hands and arms across Dean’s torso. The whole time Dean is tucked into Sam’s pelvis and Sam is tucked into Dean.

“I’m so sorry,” Sam whispers into his ear, and Dean can hear the tears thick in his voice. “I’m so sorry.”

He turns his head to kiss his brother’s lips. “S’okay Sammy. Promise.” His words are slurred with pleasure. “Now could you please focus and fuck me?”

He startles a watery laugh out of his brother. “Jerk,” Sam says.

“Bitch,” Dean replies. “Get to work.”

Still holding him so close and tight, Sam bends his knees and rolls his hips to touch all of Dean’s insides. Dean groans as his head thunks back on Sam’s shoulder. “Yeah,” Sam coos into his ear, again that tall sexy motherfucker Dean is stuck with. In books or in bed, there is nothing Sam likes better than a challenge. “Work like that, Dean?” But Dean is just _guh-ing_ as Sam prods short little stabs into his prostate, Sam’s lean hips thumping up against Dean’s ass. “Like that?”

“Fuck you, man. Just…” Dean arches his back but grips his brother’s hands around his chest tighter, not wanting Sam to let go. “More. Harder.”

Sam anchors Dean and then starts to really give it to him, pulling out as far as he can without releasing all the places they touch, then pushing back in, sliding that long, perfect dick in until Dean can almost taste it. Over and over and over again, panting, “Like this, Dean? Like this?” sounding less like the sex god, and more like that overwhelmed giant kid who’d lost his girl and was trying to find absolution and peace and satiation inside his brother’s body for the very first time.

“Yeah, baby brother,” Dean moans, giving it all up to his Sammy. “Like that. Need you. Need you.” Then Sammy’s hips start whipping at him, sweat and lube making everything slippery, and Dean’s whining, wanting, and when one of Sam’s hands loosen, Dean scrambles to snatch it tight again, to hold it where it is so Dean doesn’t shoot into space.

“Not gonna need a hand, Sammy,” Dean gasps. A bonfire is growing in him. “Just need you. Just need my baby brother. C’mon man. Give it to me.”

Sam’s babbling now, his sweaty jaw pressed against Dean’s sweaty temple. His hips start losing their sleek, marathon-man rhythm. “Fuck, fuck, gonna…fuck, Dean, missed you, missed you.”

When a hard thrust of Sam’s hips sends Dean up on his toes, Dean’s cum spatters against the cabinet. He’s held there, his brother flooding him, his brother trapping him tight, up on his toes and seized in orgasm, coming and coming, while Sammy sobs in pleasure behind him.

Sam’s already leaking out of him before Dean is through.

“Woah,” Sam mumbles against Dean’s nape, making no sense. Then he makes another, sharper “Woah!”

Maybe it’s because Dean’s bones have become rubber and he’s starting to fold.

Sam pulls Dean against him, but apparently his knees aren’t doing so hot either because they both end up on the cold cabin floor.

“My hero,” Dean snarks against his brother’s furnace of a chest. Shirt gone, still in his jeans, cock hanging out, Sam makes a damn fine mattress. “You saved me.”

“Always, Dean,” his brother says, his hand stroking down the cooling sweat on Dean’s back. His solemn voice, his big claiming hand, he’s not talking about the concussion he just helped Dean avoid.

Sam brought him lube and ice cream. Sam came back. Sam chose him.

“Always.”


End file.
